


The Prostitute Stood Alone

by ErzsebethBatoriova



Category: Grand Theft Auto IV
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Crimes & Criminals, Gen, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Post-Canon, Prostitution, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErzsebethBatoriova/pseuds/ErzsebethBatoriova
Summary: She would eventually become involved with Kate's brother, Patrick - involved in the sense that they occasionally did lines of cocaine in motel rooms.





	The Prostitute Stood Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot story featuring Packie McReary and the unnamed prostitute mentioned in the LCPD database information in Grand Theft Auto IV. I wrote this story after learning of Packie's fate in the end credits of The Ballad of Gay Tony. The prostitute, while not an active character in the game, is someone I more or less added a personality to.

She watched him shove the last article of clothing into his duffle bag as she sat cross-legged on the edge of his bed. He'd asked her to come over less than a half hour ago yet said very little to her. She was surprised by this request, considering she hadn't seen him in months. On the streets she heard rumors about him running around with some real shady individuals (then again, Liberty City's population was chalk full of creepy people) - in particular, those from Eastern Europe.

Once upon a time, she had been one of Kate's childhood friends so she'd known of the McReary family most of her life. But with their lives having branched off in radical directions (Kate's family being members of the Irish mob, while she willingly abandoned her own home to fall into drugs and prostitution), their relationship crumbled by the time they both reached high school. Oddly enough, she would eventually become involved with Kate's brother, Patrick - involved in the sense that they occasionally did lines of cocaine in motel rooms and afterward fucked like animals until they passed out. Because he would bring over the goods, she wouldn't charge him for any fornication.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked as she took out a cigarette and lighter. As she lit up, she didn't bother to offer Packie one because she knew he didn't smoke - cigarettes, at least.

"Getting as far away from this shithole as possible," Packie remarked as he zipped up his bag and made sure the contents were secure. "There's nothing left for me here. I got one brother dead, another one incarcerated, and another one God only fucking knows where he took off to."

She said nothing as he purposely left out the violent events that led to the recent murder of his sister. Even though she hadn't spoken to Kate in years, she still broke down and cried when she learned of her death. Kate was always such a good and decent girl. Sure, a bit of a prude who hadn't even lost her virginity at her "ripe" age, but never the less she was a nice person. She didn't deserve to die such a cruel and sadistic manner.

"Here, catch."

A single key was tossed onto her lap before she could even react. She picked it up as Packie explained, "It's to my locker inside the Grand Easton Terminal. The last of my cocaine is stashed in there. It's yours now."

She drew the cigarette from her lips as she carefully slipped the key into her purse which sat nearby. She couldn't help but snicker as she stood up and leaned against the wall. There, she took in the sight of Patrick McReary just a few feet away: his shaved head, the visible scars along his rough skin, that damned green shirt he favored…

"I remember the last time you and I were handling that stuff," she finally recalled as she took in a long drag, wisps of her hair falling against the bridge of her nose. "You had me get it from the same locker from the same station. What a party we had, huh? Too bad we got busted by the cops just hours later… Seems like a lifetime ago."

"Enjoy it while it lasts."

She smirked. "Baby, I'm going to have it all to myself. I'm not telling anybody about this."

Taking one last drag, she turned around and went to the nearest window, where she flicked her cigarette outside. She stared outside the grime covered glass at Dukes. It'd been a long time since she last took in the sight of her old neighborhood.

"What about your ma?" she asked quietly without turning to look at him. "She doesn't know you're leaving, does she?"

She heard him cross the room until he stood right behind her, his body just inches away from her backside.

"I can't take care of Ma like this," he admitted in a quiet tone that was uncharacteristic of him. "Shit, I almost lost it trying to console her after Kate's funeral. It took all of my energy just to get things to semi-normal again. I'm the only one left, y'know, and if I stay here it's gonna get bad real soon. Got this gut feeling about it. If anything were to happen to her because of me… I…"

"Sure, right," she replied somberly as she studied his faded reflection in the window with sympathetic eyes she wouldn't dare show him up front, because he was supposed to be a tough, Irish thug who didn't take crap from anybody. "You gonna bother telling me where you're going at least?"

"I've got tickets for a west-bound flight. When you see Ma, just... just tell her I had to get outta here for both of our sakes."

She curled her fingers into her palm as she knew she wasn't going to get a straight answer from Packie and probably never would. Throughout the years they'd "known" one another, without having told him, he was probably the closest thing to a true friend she had in Liberty City - even if that bond had been built on drugs and sex, and even if he didn't feel the same way (she knew he didn't). He was into some brutal activities and gone on murderous rampages, many of which he wouldn't divulge and it was probably for the best. After all, she was just a working class whore trying to earn a living with nobody to rely on except her pimp (when he wasn't demanding his money). The only other relation she had left was a son who had been taken away from her a few years back before he even turned one and whom she hadn't seen or heard from since.

"Well, I've gotta get a taxi," Packie finally said as he started to pull away. "Later."

"Wait!" She spun around and took a hold of his shirt, catching them both by surprise.

Packie stared at her impatiently as she opened her mouth to say something, her lips slightly trembling. There was so much she wanted to say to him right there and then: how sorry she was for all that's happened to him, how she wished she could have done more for him, even how she wanted to go with him to wherever he was going. Any place had to better than Liberty City. She couldn't bear the thought of perhaps never seeing him again. In the end, none of these confessions came out.

Instead she looked up at him as she reluctantly released her hold over his shirt. The stupid green shirt she'd never see again. In a strained voice she said, "Thanks… For the coke, I mean."

Packie snorted as he reached over and gently patted her cheek, the closest thing to a soothing gesture she ever received from him outside of their so-called relationship. Without saying another word, he retrieved his duffle bag off the bed and slipped out of the room, never once looking back.

The prostitute stood alone in what was now his former room, to forever ponder what never could be.


End file.
